Letting go
by DeannaReadX
Summary: "A whisper, a touch, a breath, a kiss and yet it wasn't enough, it wasn't real, it wasn't... Fred. And all she had was the presence, the bristling of his persona in the wind." Their relationship was kept secret but when Fred dies, what can Hermione do?


"Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound"

* * *

><p>It's like you're screaming, and no one can hear. You almost feel ashamed, that someone could be that important, that without them, you feel like nothing. No one will ever understand how much it hurts. You feel hopeless; like nothing can save you. And when it's over, and it's gone, you almost wish that you could have all that bad stuff back... so that you could have the good as well.<p>

She layed down on her back, the cold of the grass seeping immediately through her coat, through her dress to caress her skin. But the shivers didn't come, the wet of the remains of rain didn't envoke muscle cramp.

There was this strange sense of calm, the kind of warped, blurred tranquility that follows the intitial bout of pain. The sort of dangerous calm, the one that makes you loose all sense of consequence.

It flowed through her body, numbing it slightly but not completely, just so that the dull ache of harsh night temperature could be felt in her limbs.

She closed her eyes against the light of the moon, breathing in and out steadily, tears flowing from her shut eyelids like small beads of crimson blood dripping from her heart.

She could feel it again.

The presence. The one she'd been searching for, the one she'd been craving for months.

But that's all it was now, a presence. A slight feeling, a quivering in the atmosphere, a sculpting of a long lost memory working its way to the surface like a foreign wound; viral, fatal, addictive. A whisper, a touch, a breath, a kiss and yet it wasn't enough, it wasn't real, it wasn't... Fred.

And all she had was the presence, the bristling of his persona in the wind.

She opened her eyes, looking directly up at the moon. Simple, bright, defined and sharply rounded. Perfection could be found in the most unexpected ways, the way the stars dotted around it took her breath away as it had done many times before.

She swallowed tightly, whimpering slightly as the pain swelled in her chest again with images of his smiling face in exactly the same place, exactly the same time, exactly the same day exactly one year previous.

His hand sliding across the dark blades of grass to entertwine with hers as he'd relaxed against the ground, his face content, pale lids closed over amber eyes, chisseled nose, soft, innocent lips curved into a small, subconsious smile.

She wanted nothing more than to drop her head sideways and see him lied next to her again, to feel his warm hand in hers, to smell his cologne, to reach out and touch him.

But the memory was more of a ghost than he was now and there was nothing that would fill that hole, the gaping black pit where he was in her heart.

It was like their relationship had been a microcosm from the rest of the world, their own little island of laughter, peace and his cheeky grin.

No one had known about it though, no one would ever know because she just couldn't make the words come out, she couldn't even say his name anymore.

The funeral had been the worst day of her life.

She'd been holding it together before that, forcing herself to be strong for her family and friends... but as soon as she'd walked into that hall, as soon as she'd laid eyes on that coffin, the bubble in her heart had burst, forcing sobs to scratch at her throat and catch her breath in it.

Like the tears were unstoppable, vengeful and cruel and they came like animals, stampeding at the tear ducts, rushing down her face with stunning simplicity.

And now... now there was only this field and the moon on her face.

"Stop it" a voice whispered in her ear and she jumped, gasping but not daring to open her eyes.

"You're torturing yourself Hermione, stop it. Let me go" he whispered again and she knew she was either halucinating or the ghost of Fred effing Weasley was actually whispering in her ear.

"I can't" she sobbed, shaking her head.

"I can't shake you, I can't, you're in my skin Fred, you're hooked onto my soul. I can't-"

"Since when as Hermione Granger believed in the word 'can't'? Yes Hermione, you can. I need you to, I can't watch you like this. I can't let you do this to yourself, sort it out witch... you can't love a ghost for the rest of your life" he said quietly and tenderly and it was so real, the sound was so perfect, she felt cold against her cheek and her eyes snapped open on reflex.

He was perfect, beautiful even. Being dead had done him justice aparently because the cliched silvery glow hovering just above his skin was magestic and his smile was so true and adoring, a vapoury finger was touching her cheek ever so slightly and she began to sob again.

"Shhh, stop Hermione you're hurting me more than you're hurting yourself, trust me. Come on now, if George can do it so can you" he breathed.

"Concentrate, I'm here, I'm right here okay. Look at me Hermione, look" he said and slowly, she let her eyes meet his dead amber ones.

"I will always be in your heart Hermione, I will always be there making you laugh. I'm alive inside you, inside George and I love you but I need you to accept that I'm gone, I'm not coming back and you have to let yourself let go" he urged gently and her heart was breaking, the pain was actually physical and she could feel the sobs building in her rib cage, pulsing in her lungs as the tears continued to fall.

"Take a deep breath" he said and she swallowed the pain, pushing it down so that it wasn't crippling her anymore.

"Good, now relax your thoughts, really search your emotions and find me, find me and let me float away Hermione" he encouraged.

She wanted so desperately to cling on, to make him stay with her, to freeze the moment and live in it forever.

But she couldn't, he was right as per fucking usual, she could not love a ghost for the rest of her life.

So she made the decision although it was ripping her apart, she tried to gain that calm again, to search herself for the dormant, black part that was Fred's death... to move past it to his smiling face and his panting breath on her neck as he'd made love to her the first time, the dates in Paris and London and Rome, the secret little field they'd laid in under the sun and under the stars. Those nights and days when he'd had her screaming at him either in anger or in laughter.

The realisation hit her.

She pushed a little further forward passed the part of him that belonged to her, to the here and now, when his face, pale and ghostly, was staring down at her.

"Do it Hermione, I love you now just... let it float away... like a balloon" he breathed, a translucent tear dripping down his face.

She cried as she felt something detatch from her and silence returned to the field, not even a bird chirped.

She'd done it.

She'd let go.


End file.
